


Better Than Blood

by foxjar



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canon Era, M/M, Mild Blood, Romance, Self-Harm, Shukita Halloween 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26846284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: Akira just happens to find the scent of Yusuke's blood more appetizing than anyone else's. That metallic scent with a hint of sweetness.Even if Yusuke offered to let him have a taste, Akira would refuse. He'd have to.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57
Collections: Shukita Halloween





	Better Than Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Shukita Halloween (day four) prompts: duality + alternate universe.

It is a perplexing thing to love and to thirst.

Every creature born to feast on nothing but blood has particular tastes, just as mortals do. The many humans of the world have an array of different types of blood, and like the multitudes of human food, no two people taste the same. Sometimes blood will taste similar to another's, just a little more bitter or with a hint of tanginess. Blood exists on a spectrum as large and diverse as the infinitely swooping rainbow.

Akira just happens to find the scent of Yusuke's blood more appetizing than anyone else's. That metallic scent with a hint of sweetness. He's never tasted it, but he has smelled it on a few occasions, from incidents in the Metaverse to artistic catastrophes.

It isn't a catastrophe that sets Yusuke's next painting into motion. It is inspiration: the fire within the color red, the life, the innate gore.

"I saw a piece at an art exhibition," Yusuke explains, setting up his fresh canvas while Akira watches, sitting on the dorm room floor and tracing the dried splatters of paint on the wood. "The artist used blood in such a captivating way."

The word piques Akira's interest, a full-body shiver rippling through him. Although his friends know what he is, none of them know about his particular thirst. Could he make them understand? Is there a human equivalent to what he desires?

Yusuke is slicing his finger with a razor before Akira has a chance to object. He's dabbing at the canvas, staining it crimson, all while Akira licks his lips. Blood is sustenance to him, but it doesn't drive him wild unless he's starving — or unless it's Yusuke's.

Even if Yusuke offered to let him have a taste, even a mere lick of his sliced thumb, Akira would refuse. He'd have to. There's the addiction to consider, as well as Yusuke's health. He's suffered from severe bouts of anemia for as long as Akira has known him, and how might addiction and anemia mix if he were to have a single taste?

"Could you imagine a more personal medium?" Yusuke murmurs, unaware of the smells wafting through the room and the sheer willpower it takes for Akira to remain in control.

Akira shakes his head. He can't imagine anything more personal than painting with one's own blood when there's already so little of it to use. When he closes his eyes, he can imagine the blood coursing through Yusuke's veins, thick and gushing, but then it slows to a crawl. Thinking about it makes him crave it more, his stomach gurgling, but it reminds him how precarious Yusuke's situation is.

Akira would never hurt him. Not now, not ever.

Even in his head, the idea terrifies him. The thought of losing Yusuke to his own selfishness, when Yusuke is already suffering enough. The stomachaches, the headaches, the dizziness.

He's even a little dizzy himself as he stands up, knees wobbly as he makes his way over to Yusuke and his easel. Akira grabs Yusuke's hand mid brushstroke, fingers wrapping around his bony wrist, afraid to move lest he snaps it.

"Please," he begs. "Stop."

Yusuke looks at him, a deep confusion set on his brow. "Are you worried? It isn't that much blood."

He's right. When Akira looks back at the canvas, it's no more than a tiny spoonful worth of blood, streaky and red on a white canvas.

But it's more than enough to bind Akira to him, to make him addicted for life. Akira bites his lip, imagining the moment Yusuke's blood touches his tongue, and still Yusuke watches him, studying the contortions of his face.

Yusuke touches Akira's face with his uninjured hand, thumb running across his cheek. Always seeing more than he lets on, even when his hyperfixations lead him away; always more perceptive than people give him credit for.

For the first time, Akira tries to explain his craving for Yusuke's blood — and no other's. The words come out disjointed and Akira doesn't think he's expressing himself very well, but Yusuke just keeps nodding, bobbing his head. Deep in thought.

"I had no idea that my blood was so tantalizing to you," Yusuke murmurs. "Please forgive me."

Akira shakes his head. "There's nothing to forgive."

For a moment, his mind whirls, trawling unbidden depths. There's the hand on his cheek, the unspoken request on his tongue. His skin flushes as he closes his eyes, imagining it.

_Just give me a taste, just a single drop —_

Yusuke tilts his chin up, trying to pull him back from those same depths as if he knows they're not the right place for Akira to be.

No, where Akira belongs is right here, pulled into Yusuke's arms. He buries his head into his neck, feeling his pulse beating rapidly beneath his lips, and for the first time, his urge to bite, to taste, isn't what overwhelms him.

It's the fact that he could be the one to make Yusuke's heart beat so fast that amazes him. Is Yusuke afraid, or does he find the danger thrilling? He's always sought out thrills to inspire him, but nothing like this. Nothing quite so dangerous.

But is there danger, really? Akira would never hurt him, and maybe Yusuke knows that better than anyone.

Akira kisses his pulse, clutching onto Yusuke's shirt. The beats are so fast, so erratic, it's as if Yusuke is dancing instead of merely standing in the corner of his dorm room as an icy draft slips through the closed window.

Yusuke's grip on him falters, hands slipping from his waist, and for a moment, Akira's heart drops. Just a little longer, just a few more minutes — but Yusuke's long fingers are on his cheek again, pulling him into a kiss. Then their chests are crushed together, the air escaping their lungs at the suddenness.

It's too perfect, the way things unfold, and Akira bites back a laugh. Even more delectable than Yusuke's blood is the taste of his skin; his tongue against Akira's own, soft and seeking and inexperienced but oh-so willing to learn.

There is no fear, only an eagerness to make up for the lost time. Is it possible to catch up after all the time Akira has spent lusting after his blood, worrying about hurting him in the process? He isn't sure, but Yusuke seems confident.

Waves of confidence roll off of Yusuke as Akira has never felt them before, lips hot and hands aching as they clutch at one another.

 _Yes,_ every kiss declares. _We won't lose what we have finally found._


End file.
